He sat silently in the cargo hold of his ship, Slave II. The low hum of the instruments the only sound penetrating the gloomy silence of his surroundings.

Boba Fett cracked his knuckles as he thought ahead to his hunt. He had been out of commission for over half a decade after his horrific ordeal at the Sarlacc.

Fett tensed, albiet briefly. He could still feel the phantom burn of the thing's digestive juices on his arms when he thought about it.

He had spent the last five years healing from his wounds and getting back into form. But now was the first true test.

The mark was a smuggler called Mirko Dresden. Born on Corellia, Dresden got into the smuggling trade at an early age, and quickly became a fairly profitable scoundrel.

But poor Mirko's arrogance was always his downfall. He had stolen from the Black Sun, and now had a death mark on his head. And, though the organization lost some of it's power base with Prince Xixor's death, the Black Sun still had immense resources.

Resources enough to pay Fett's incredibly high fee.

And so the most dangerous hunter in the galaxy was thrust back in the game after years of inactivity.

A low beeping sounded throughout the ship, signifying that he was coming out of hyperspace.

Fett clenched his fists and reached down and picked up his helmet. With a quick crack of his neck, he placed the helmet over his head and grabbed his blaster rifle that rested nearby.

It was time to see if his five year layoff hindered his talents.

RETURN OF THE KING ~ Prologue

__________________"Take the risk of thinking for yourself, much more happiness, truth, beauty, and wisdom will come to you that way."

The room was dark as Pellaeon entered. What was once the former entertainment suite to the Captain Pellaeon's predecessor, the Grand Admiral had transformed into his own personal chambers.

Pellaeon had not been in the room since it's transformation, and his surprise was visible when he saw the hundreds of different works of art placed neatly throughout the room.

The art was not real, merely holographic replicas, but their quality was still nothing short of stunning.

"Can I help you, Captain", came the voice from the murky gloom.

Pellaeon swallowed as he looked ahead at the two glowing red slits that marked the Grand Admiral's eyes. Thrawn sat cooly in his floating command chair in the room's center. Thrawn's glowing red eyes, the most striking feature of the Chiss, a sharp contrast to his blue skin and the shadows surrounding him. Surrounding the Grand Admiral's seat were three circles of art displays that slowly orbited the command chair like cosmic rings dancing around a celestial body.

"Sorry to disturb you, Admiral, but I thought you'd like to know that the Recon team sent to retrieve the New Rep - the Rebellion date logs has exited Hyperspace and is en-route."

Thrawn did not say a word as he sat completely still in his chair, his fingers laced together in front of him as he stared off into the shadows.

"What resistence did they meet?"

"Nothing major, sir. A squadron of Manta-class fighters impeded their escape, but they were able to return to hyperspace with minor losses."

Again Thrawn was silent, and Pellaeon shifted nervously on his feet as he felt the burning gaze of the Grand Admiral's red eyes boring into him.

Quickly, Thrawn pressed a button on his chair and the art disappeared as the room lights brightened to their fullest. Command stations mimicking those on the bridge silently slide from hidden compartments on the walls and floor.
The holographic rings of artwork that once floated eerily around his chair now turned into rings of statistical reports and sensor screens.

Thrawn sat up in his chair as he looked at the small red dots that marked the Recon team as it approached the larger red dot that marked the Chimaera, Thrawn's flagship.

Pressing a button on the arm of the command chair, the Thrawn spoke into the now crackling intercom.

"This is Grand Admiral Thrawn. Order all units to battle stations and scramble TIE fighter squadrons twelve and fifteen."

"Yes, sir", came the crackling reply of the bridge officer as the horn began to sound, signifying the high alert status.

Pellaeon did his best to hide his questioning gaze, but the ever alert Grand Admiral instantly noticed it.

"You're wondering why I've order the crew on alert?"

Pellaeon hesitated a bit, the memories of what happened to those who questioned Lord Vader dancing through his mind.

"Yes, sir", Pellaeon choked out eventually.

"I'd have thought it would be obvious", Thrawn replied in a bored tone as he cocked one of his blue-black eyebrows."The Recon team was allowed to escape so that our enemies could follow them back to their source."

"But, they only encountered a single squadron?"

"Yes, they did", stated the Grand Admiral matter-of-factly."The rest of their forces had been held back, out of sensor range. Waiting to track the hyperspace trajectory of the Recon team back to their point of origin. Then they would be able to assess the entire threat it faced."

A look of disbelief flashed ever-so briefly on Pellaeon's face before fading into neutrality. How he came up with such a notion simply boggled the Captain's mind.
Once again, Thrawn caught it, and the Grand Admiral creased his lips in a thin smile.

"Learn about art, Captain", Thrawn spoke in an cool tone of voice."And you will learn all you need to know about your opponent."

Suddenly, the tactical screen floating in front of Thrawn flashed as two dozen green dots appeared at it's edge.

"Order squadron twelve to trail off and swing around to point 2-8-8, mark 3-6-6. They are not to engage until I give the word", Thrawn barked calmly into the intercome.

"Sir?"

"It's simple, Captain", replied the Grand Admiral, "Captain Ferrell, the Commander of the Rebel forces bearing down on us, has a deep seeded hatred for the Empire. He's too stubborn to immediately call for back up. We will wipe them out before they report our presence here."

"But, attacking with such a simple manuever", Pellaeon found himself blurting out before he could shut himself up. The Captain winced as he awaited the sure fired fury of the Grand Admiral at such an outburst.

But no outburst came. Thrawn simply smirked ever-so-slightly."He is Elomin, Captain. He will not be able to adjust to the attack until it is too late. I have studied Elomin art, you see. In fact, it was the art that decorated the room when you entered."

Pellaeon remained silent as the battle began. And his astonishment was visible as the battle quickly ended just as Thrawn predicted. The Rebels did not react to the manuever fast enough and were decimated in minutes.

"Thrawn to bridge. Cancel alert status, and, once the squadrons return, set course for the Arbra system immediately", spoke the Grand Admiral over the intercom.

"Yes, sir."

Thrawn pressed the buttom on his chair, and the lights dimmed once again, and the holographic images of completely different artwork appeared neatly throughout the room.

"Is there anything else, Captain?"

"No, Admiral", replied Pellaeon, still in disbelief.

"Then I'd prefer to be alone, if you don't mind. Contact me immediately when we reach the Arbra system."

"Yes, sir", replied the Captain as he straightened himself and saluted the Grand Admiral.

Gilad Pellaeon turned on his heels and left the room, silently wondering how the Battle of Endor would have ended had Thrawn been in command.

__________________"Take the risk of thinking for yourself, much more happiness, truth, beauty, and wisdom will come to you that way."

"What a disaster."
I've been saying that ever since we dropped into Bastion.

After we had finally liberated Coruscant, it was one of the Imperial Remnant's last major strongholds, and someone or other in the High Command thought that if Bastion fell, the Imps would collapse. It might have been a decent idea...if they had sent more than a token force to the planet.

Somewhere along the way, politics got mixed up with strategy, and instead of the entire New Republic Fleet hammering the Imps, they sent a handful of outdated corvettes and three squadrons of fighters into a heavily guarded fortress of a world.

The only thing they got even halfway right was including my squadron in the attack.

Two days later, I'm making my way down the corridors of the Liberty-type Mon Calmari Cruiser Ardent, to report to Admiral Salm that his plan that everyone knew was going to fail did, in fact, fail.

Salm is one of the new wave of supposed 'leaders' in the New Republic that got his job by playing politics. And like a lot of the others, he's gone out of his way to make sure his office on the Ardent looked every bit as important as his job would entail. A great big desk with the New Republic insignia on the front, a neatly-trimmed row of greenery along the walls, and two big Republic banners, one in each corner.

I smirk as I notice that he's taken down the Rebel flag he used to display, after I countered one of his blustering rants about the chain of command by pointing out the fact that I didn't recall him ever flying against a Death Star.

Salm is facing away from me when I enter his office, looking out the large viewport into space. I stop at the doorway and grudgingly salute, holding it until he turns to face me and returns the gesture, practically looking down his nose at me the whole time. I swear, how he ended up on our side is beyond me; he looks more like he'd be right at home on the bridge of a Star Destroyer.

"Commander Antilles, I assume you have the full report of your defeat at Bastion."
Don't think I didn't catch the wording of that, you aristocratic sithspawn. My defeat? This whole mess was your idea!

"Yes, Admiral, *ahem*" I clear my throat before beginning. "Rogue Squadron was the first out of hyperspace, meant to draw fire away from the corvettes Dilligent and Kell's Hope while they targeted the single Victory-class Star Destroyer in orbit. Meanwhile, Green Squadron's A-Wings would harass the fighters in the area, Blue Squadron would take its B-Wings planetside on a bombing run against the Imperial fortifications in the capital city, before the frigate Sojourn deployed its shuttles for the landing party."

I see a slight smile on his face--he still likes the sound of his plan, even after it killed so many people.
"The plan fell apart the second we arrived in the system--there were four Star Destroyers parked around Bastion, not just one. Three Victory-class, one Imperial, and at least ten TIE Fighter squadrons between them. My fighters did what they could to keep the Imp eyeballs off of the 'vettes, but...""But they failed to do so."

Those were good men out there. And with that tone of voice he's using, it's all I can do to not bust that beak-nose of his. I clench my teeth, but the silence in the room is all he needs to know that he's on dangerous ground.

"The TIEs weren't the problem, Admiral--between the Rogues and Green Squadron, we kept the eyeballs and squints back. The problem was that there were four Star Destroyers against two corvettes and a frigate. It's a testament to their abilities that they survived as long as they did. The Kell's Hope took a direct hit from the Imperial-class within the first minute of combat, all hands on board lost. The three Victory-class ships tore the Dilligent apart easily. I did see it jettison a few escape pods, but they were planet-bound. If there were any survivors, they're in Imperial hands now.

"With the corvettes gone and the Sojourn taking heavy damage, I gave the order to retreat. Green Squadron lost seven of their twelve fighters, and Blue Squadron pulled out before making their run. The Sojourn won't be fully operational again for months.""And your own squadron?" Salm says, almost disinterested.

"What squadron? We were the ones who had to choke up the Imp fighters, and we paid for it. Beruss, Scotian, Hightower, Huwla, and Shiel are all dead. Qrygg, Cracken, Nu, and Zatoq are all injured. And Ardele and Ghufran are missing in action. Right now, Admiral, the active flight roster of Rogue Squadron consists entirely of myself."
I know he's dedicated to the cause of the New Republic, but Salm still gets a glint in his eye when he hears this. Ever since he was assigned to Fleet Command under Admiral Ackbar, he's been treating me as a bigger threat than the Imps--probably because he knows I would have his job if I ever decided I liked the big ships more than the fast ones. He's going to enjoy lording this over me.

"What happened to you, Commander Antilles? When I first joined Fleet Command, I kept hearing stories about the famous Rogue Squadron, the daredevil pilots who would make entire Imperial fleets turn tail and run when they arrived. Now, your pilots aren't even fit to lead a simple planetary assault. You may be a war hero, but I'm running out of reasons not to relieve you of your command."
Once again, I'm boiling over with the urge to give his face a working-over.

"With all due respect, sir, if my squadron isn't up to the task, it's because I don't have the authorization to select a squadron that is. Rogue Squadron's become more of a political symbol than a military asset--I've had to drop extremely skilled pilots and heavy combat veterans in favor of spoiled rich kids whose parents have friends in the right places. They were good, no question, but they just weren't Rogues.""So your suggestion would be...?"

"Reorganize the group, with twelve pilots of my choosing. One support frigate to act as our mobile HQ, and no posturing for the public. If Rogue Squadron is going to be the group the Empire runs from in terror, they're going to have to fight like it.

"I'll still accept your orders--even if they're ones that assume an Imperial stronghold is going to have the same defenses as an Outer Rim colony," I add, making sure he knows I blame him entirely for the fiasco. "If we fail a mission, I'll dissolve the group and retire from the Fleet altogether. That way, you'll get the credit for us making your strategies work, or you'll at least be rid of me. Either way, you win."
Salm strokes his chin for a moment, then nods.

"And I'm looking forward to watching you choke on those words, Admiral."
I storm out of his office, still fuming like I always am after a meeting with that pompous idiot. Still, under that, I'm energized like I haven't been in years. Within a week, Rogue Squadron will be back in the shape it was when Luke and I terrorized the Empire.

Now it's just a matter of finding pilots good enough and crazy enough to take the job.

Carron opened his eyes. He was flat on his back, and his temples were throbbing. He brushed some of the blonde hair out of his eyes and picked himself up. His feet touched the ground slowly and he pushed himself upright. He blinked at the bright lights that filled the room. He looked around him, and started as an old man walked into the room.

"Ah, Carron, you're awake," he said with a small smile.

"I'm sorry? Who the hell are you?" Carron said, putting his hand to a large bump on his head.

"We're on a dungeon ship," Galak sad, sitting down on the bed that Carron had been lying on "A few hours ago, the shields went down on our cells. We dealt with the Imperials on board, but some engineer managed to blow out part of the hyperdrive. We've got a guy working on it but he's not sure what he can do,"

"Why can't I remember?" he asked sleepily.

"A stormtrooper hit you around the head with his rifle. I think Rorworr ripped his arms off," he said idly.

"Rorworr?" Carron asked.

"A wookie. So far there's you, me, Rorworr, a zabrak tech guy called Ko Laz, Dane, Vor'en Kurn, a rodian called Kelko, the twilek Deel Surool, a droid that wont give us his ID and one of the imperial officers surrendered," Galak said, counting them off on his fingers. Carron nodded slowly. He winced as a loud siren started blaring across the ship, making his head pound. A deep, grunting voice came over the tannoy.

"Approaching Imperial ships, all hands to battle stations,"

Carron looked at Galak, who stood up.

"Follow me," he said. It was about five paces from the medical bay he'd been in to the cockpit of the ship. A tall droid was sitting in the pilot's chair, while an irritated looking zabrak was in the co-pilots. He looked around as Galak and Carron entered.

"Apparantly, the droid can fly the ship better than I can,"the zabrak mutterd. He nodded at Carron "Good to see you're up and running. The others are in the crisis room,"

The crisis room turned out to be at the middle of the ship, about a two minutes jog from the cabin. As he walked in, Carron saw a vastly differing group standing around the circular table.

"The Imperials will either blast us or take us to some god awful mining colony," a tall, thickset man growled. Carron realised that he had been the one to talk over the tannoy.

"So we have to get out of here," a red haired woman insisted, slamming her fist onto the table.

"We take the jump to hyperspace," Carron said hoarsely. The others turned and looked at him.

"Well, the big hero's here now, he can sort this all out," the man said, eyeing Carron warily.

"We attempt the jump to hyperspace, and accept the consequences. I doubt whatever will happen will be as bad as anything the Imperials will do to us," he said, looking around at the group. The red haired woman nodded.

"The boy's right," Galak said "Ko, you getting this?"

"How many times do I have to tell you people, the hyperdrive is unstable," Ko Laz shouted over the comms.

"Imperial ship within weapons range in T-Minus three minutes," the droid called.

"Godammit, Laz, do it!" the heavy-set man shouted. Bitter muttering filled the ship as Laz prepared to make the jump to hyperspace.

"Here we go," he shouted. There was a loud rumble, and a huge bang as the hyperdrive engine blew out. A wall of blue energy ran across the ship's hull and there was a zipping sound. The shipmates were all knocked to the ground in the blast. The twilek, Deel, looked up.

Kyle Katarn hated waiting, he always said he'd never have the patience to be a jedi, waiting made him nervous, almost paranoid. As he sat drumming his fingers on his thighs outside the office of Mon Mothma his eyes darted about all over the place, not taking much in, just out of apparent boredom.
"Will you settle down you're like a child." Jan Ors, Kyle's co-pilot and the love of his life, reprimanded, giving him a stern look.

"Sorry Jan." Kyle said quickly, sighing and trying to sit still. As a few more moments passed by the doors to the office opened and out walked General Solo and Senator Organa. Kyle stood, giving a friendly nod to the two as they passed.

"Ah, Kyle, Jan please have a seat." Mothma called from inside the office.

"Great- Ow." Kyle whispered before being cut off by an elbow to the ribs.

"Mon Mothma, the mission was a complete success the Wookie infant is back with his family and relations with Kashykk are better than ever." Jan reported, sitting down, back straight into a chair opposite the aging co-founder of the Rebel Alliance.

"Excellent news." She beamed, looking at the couple fondly. "As always the two of you have proven exceedingly valuable to the Republic."

"I was... concerned about the numbers the slavers seemed to have amassed. They had an army in there, do you think the remnant has something planned with them? Slave labour was the Empire's MO afterall."

"Interesting Kyle... and worrying. I shall have some people look into it. Talk to the young woman outside for your money as always."

With that Kyle quickly rose to his feet, Jan following suit."A pleasure as always Mon Mothma."

"Likewise Jan."

The two mercenaries strode down a hallway and stopped at a desk where a young rodian woman was sat.

"Mr Katarn? Miss Ors?"

"That's us." Kyle smiled, eagerly awaiting his credits.

"Oh, also this came for you as well." She said, handing him a holodisk. Kyle looked at it puzzled for a moment then clicked a small button on the side.

"Doesn't seem to be any visual just audio, let's have a listen." Static fizzed and crackled for a moment before a voice could be heard."Kyle, Kyle it's your father, you have to get home as quickly as possible, you must reach us before he does. He's after it, he's finally come for it. Please Kyle... Hurry."

Kyle stood stunned for a moment before turning to the rodian and barking at her. "When did this arrive?" The poor young woman seemed startled for a moment before answering.

"Just this morning sir."

Katarn pocketed the holodisk and set off at a run through the corridors, Jan in tow, the words still echoing in his brain. 'Who has come for it? What is 'it'?' He thought, his father, Morgan, had never owned anything of real value, just a simple man, had some run-ins with the Empire before though. Kyle wondered if the Remnant were behind this.

With all the men locked and loaded and ready to go, I climb aboard the Falcon and slip into the pilot's seat.

"Alright, Chewie. Let's get this show on the road."

"Whatever you say boss."

I fire the Falcon's engines up and take off toward the Coruscant sky. It feels good to be back behind the controls. We'd been stuck on the capital for weeks and I was starting to get antsy, considering I finished our needed repairs about a week into our stay.

"I took some time and found out about this rock we're headed to. Actually looks like a nice place. Maybe we can hit it up for a vacation sometime. Whatta think... General?" I bark at Han giving him a sideways look.

For all the Empire has done for us..for the galaxy..it treats us like cattle. Expendable toy men in shiny armor that can be replaced with the push of a button.
They think we don't know they mock us behind our backs. Scoff at our grief, when a fellow soldier falls in battle. Some think us not human.

But we are. And as with the human spirit, it feels pain when a kindred one is snuffed out. Funerals are a luxury meant for Emperors and Sith Lords, not clones.

Imagine watching yourself dying over and over again.

I stare blankly at the helmet in front of me. Mounted on a small podium in my private quarters, it's black, empty eyes stare right back. I'm looking into a mirror.

A show of respect and gratitude for the 501st service to the Empire, small as it may be, we appreciate it. Denied time and time again by our superiors, this was one of the first things Grand Admiral Thrawn did when he rose to power. An attempt to boost our morale, no doubt. It worked.

Under Thrawn, the Empire stands a chance against the Rebels. Saving us from disarray and power mad Generals and self-proclaimed Emperors that all made a grab for leadership, Thrawn has made the Empire a true presence in the galaxy again.

Reaching over and pulling the helmet over my head, I feel it's weight set on my neck and it's sometimes suffocating heat smack me in the face. "Yes sir, Captain Pellaeon." I reply with a mix of obediance and confidence that comes as naturally as breathing after all these years.

"The Grand Admiral wants to see you. Report to his chambers immediately." Pellaeon states.

"Yes sir." I confirm, but he's already signed off by the time I say the words. Captain Pellaeon has always had a certain...unease about clones.

Rising to my feet, I take one last glance at the helmet we all wore during the Clone Wars. One last look at the past, before heading out into the future. "Yes sir." I repeat under my breath, as I head out the door.

The hulking, cloaked creature slowly hobbled towards me. He was still quite strong but not as quick as he used to be.

“Master Rotta, the ship is ready. You must leave now if you’re to make your appointment on time,” the old Chevin said.

“Very good, Ephant. I’ll be on board shortly.”

Ephant Mon was a close, some say the only, friend of my Father’s. Mon worked as my Father’s head of security and is now my majordomo. With the palace lost to the B’omarr Monks, Mon mostly watches over my Father’s penthouse in Mos Eisley, my current home.

The hoversled gently floated up the ramp, carrying me into my Father’s starship. A few dozen guards followed close behind. The ramp retracted and the doors slid shut. Before long, the engines rumbled and the ship ascended into the skies.

“Sir, I must say, there will probably be…conflict. You may want to bring more guards.”

“I appreciate your concern but I believe I’ll do fine. ”

Our destination was Nal Hutta. A meeting of the Desilijic clan. One I was not looking forward to. As formal leader of the clan, I am to settle disputes between Desilijic, oversee the affairs of the Desilijic, and introduce my plans for the future of the Desilijic. For the past five years, I have hardly done any of this.

It’s not that I can’t. I merely don’t want to. I had no interest in current spice smuggling operations and I don’t care which relative gets which hypserspace route. This business has only brought death and destruction to the family, why should I continue it?

The others loathed me. Great Uncle Pazda thinks me a fool. Cousin Gorga has not hid his desire to replace me. But I cannot let them take over. I will not leave the family. I will change it. Mold our operations into what I want them to be. Into what they should be. The Desilijic clan would be the first completely legitimate Hutt clan. Regular, honorable members of society. Respected but not feared.

This meeting, I had decided, would be the one where I reveal my plans. But I was afraid. The others would undoubtedly protest. Exactly how they would protest, I was unsure. But I am the clan leader now. They should do as I command….right?

I fire the Falcon's engines up and take off toward the Coruscant sky. It feels good to be back behind the controls. We'd been stuck on the capital for weeks and I was starting to get antsy, considering I finished our needed repairs about a week into our stay.

"I took some time and found out about this rock we're headed to. Actually looks like a nice place. Maybe we can hit it up for a vacation sometime. Whatta think... General?" I bark at Han giving him a sideways look.

"Yeah, Chewie. I'm sure you need to work on your sun tan." I say slyly as we leave Coruscant's atmosphere.

Chewie barks back laughing.

"Keep her steady while I put in the coordinates for the jump to lightspeed."

He grunts as I leap up and put in the numbers Cracken gave me into the hyperdrive computer.

"Alright, punch it!"

I sit back down in the pilot's chair just as Chewie presses the throttle.

Just like that, we're gone from Courscant and headed towards Naboo.

__________________

"These are the times that try men's souls... Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph."

-- Thomas Paine

"People never lie so much as after a hunt, during a war or before an election."
-- Otto von Bismarck

Kyle Katarn hated waiting, he always said he'd never have the patience to be a jedi, waiting made him nervous, almost paranoid. As he sat drumming his fingers on his thighs outside the office of Mon Mothma his eyes darted about all over the place, not taking much in, just out of apparent boredom.
"Will you settle down you're like a child." Jan Ors, Kyle's co-pilot and the love of his life, reprimanded, giving him a stern look.

"Sorry Jan." Kyle said quickly, sighing and trying to sit still. As a few more moments passed by the doors to the office opened and out walked General Solo and Senator Organa. Kyle stood, giving a friendly nod to the two as they passed.

"Ah, Kyle, Jan please have a seat." Mothma called from inside the office.

"Great- Ow." Kyle whispered before being cut off by an elbow to the ribs.

"Mon Mothma, the mission was a complete success the Wookie infant is back with his family and relations with Kashykk are better than ever." Jan reported, sitting down, back straight into a chair opposite the aging co-founder of the Rebel Alliance.

"Excellent news." She beamed, looking at the couple fondly. "As always the two of you have proven exceedingly valuable to the Republic."

"I was... concerned about the numbers the slavers seemed to have amassed. They had an army in there, do you think the remnant has something planned with them? Slave labour was the Empire's MO afterall."

"Interesting Kyle... and worrying. I shall have some people look into it. Talk to the young woman outside for your money as always."

With that Kyle quickly rose to his feet, Jan following suit."A pleasure as always Mon Mothma."

"Likewise Jan."

The two mercenaries strode down a hallway and stopped at a desk where a young rodian woman was sat.

"Mr Katarn? Miss Ors?"

"That's us." Kyle smiled, eagerly awaiting his credits.

"Oh, also this came for you as well." She said, handing him a holodisk. Kyle looked at it puzzled for a moment then clicked a small button on the side.

"Doesn't seem to be any visual just audio, let's have a listen." Static fizzed and crackled for a moment before a voice could be heard."Kyle, Kyle it's your father, you have to get home as quickly as possible, you must reach us before he does. He's after it, he's finally come for it. Please Kyle... Hurry."

Kyle stood stunned for a moment before turning to the rodian and barking at her. "When did this arrive?" The poor young woman seemed startled for a moment before answering.

"Just this morning sir."

Katarn pocketed the holodisk and set off at a run through the corridors, Jan in tow, the words still echoing in his brain. 'Who has come for it? What is 'it'?' He thought, his father, Morgan, had never owned anything of real value, just a simple man, had some run-ins with the Empire before though. Kyle wondered if the Remnant were behind this.

"Jan get the Raven's Claw in the air on our way to Sulon, now."

"We're coming out of hyperspace now." Chimed Jan, sat in the co-pilot's seat next to Kyle as he rubbed his fingers over his bearded chin, deep in thought.

"I haven't seen you this worried since you got into a bar fight with those five Gamorrean mobsters."

"I've never heard my Dad that panicked for as long as I've known him. Whatever's after him is something dangerous Jan... And by my memory there were six of them."

As the Raven's Claw lurched out of hyperspace the planet Sulon emerged ahead of them.

"Welcome home." Jan said, a certain apprehension in her voice. Kyle didn't reply, his face one of grim determination.

***

Several moments later they had set down at the Katarn homestead, the door broken down in and smoke rising from the inside.

"DAD!" Kyle yelled sprinting into the blazing house, ignoring the cries of warning from his partner. Inside it was clear the house had been ramsacked even through the thick smoke, every draw emptied every piece of furniture overturned. The upstairs was unreachable, the fire engulfing it entirely.

"KYLE! Get out of there!" He heard the yells coming from outside but ignored them, pushing on into the kitchen. At the far end he noticed a protocol droid trapped by a peice of debris. Kyle rushed over and helped the mechanical servant up much to it's gratitude.

"Thank you stranger. You have saved me a trip to the scrap yards... It is just a shame my master's home isn't so fortunate."

"Come on!" The mercenary yelled over the blaze, grabbing the droid by the arm and exiting crumbling building.

As the two escaped the blaze the roof came crashing down, they watched on as Morgan Katarn's worldy possessions and, Kyle dreaded, even Morgan Katarn himself.

"Droid! Was your master in there?"

"No sir. Three men escorted him away rather quickly before setting the house on fire. My master did not seem to pleased with their assisstance."

Kyle breathed a sigh of relief for a second. His father was still alive, or at least hadn't died in the blaze.

"What did these men look like, were they wearing imperial markings of any sort?"

"I believe sir, that the leader was Governor Jerec. He has payed my master visits many times in past months, it often became a heated discussion, sometimes ending in violence against my master."

Kyle gritted his teeth, rage coursing through his body. Why hadn't he called for help sooner? He could have stopped this, Kyle thought.

"Jan, see what you can find out about this Jerec guy through the Republic. If he's remnant he's going to be on their database."

The large, dirt-brown buildings of Phelar loomed like giant mountains above the ant-like masses of beings that scurried about their daily business. One of the major cities on the planet Eriadu, Phelar housed one of the busiest spaceports in the Outer Rim.

The planet itself sat smack in the middle of the crossroads of the Rimma Trade Route and the Hidian Way, along with dozens of other smaller trade routes. A fact promoted by the leaders of the world, as they pushed for more urban settings and markets rather than clean up the heavily polluted world.
In any case, the position of the planet, coupled with the immense amount of traffic, made Eriadu a hub for smugglers and all sorts of general scum looking to make a profit.

And it was this fact that brought Boba Fett to Phelar. Fett calmly strode down the boulovard, his rifle hanging on his side, easily accessable. He had come here looking for a man named Aves, one of the smuggler Talon Karrde's main underlings.
But Karrde and his gang were more than just smugglers. They also dealt in information. And it was information that Fett wanted.

The people wandering the streets of Phelar gave Fett a wide berth as the bounty hunter made his way to the Thirsty Mynoch, one of Phelar's most notorious watering holes.

Entering the establishment, Boba Fett took in the entire scene. The entire bar was no bigger Chalmun's Cantina in Mos Eisley, but it was filled with twice as many patrons. The roar of noise in the place was near deafening, but if it bothered Fett he didn't show it.

The bounty hunter's gaze finally came to rest on a table in the back, where a young, rough-faced blonde human sat drinking with a pair of Rodians.

Fett slowly made his way to the table, and, upon his arrival, the conversation they were having quickly died.

Boba Fett looked across the table at the blonde man, ignoring the two aliens sitting across from him.

"Aves, we have business we need to discuss. Now."

Aves did his best to keep a cool face, but his concern was evident by the lump in his throat that he tried to swallow down.

"And what business would that be", Aves asked in as calm a voice as he could muster.

Boba Fett looked down at the two Rodians who immediately took the hint and quickly left the table.

"Great", Aves huffed, "It's going to be days before they muster the courage to meet with me again."

"I'm sure you'll manage", Fett stated as he took the now empty seat across from Aves.

Lieutenant Bastion Renn hated writing mission reports. And paperwork in general. Yet another downside to being in command of the best of the Imperial Remnants Elite. Many had asked why a mere Lieutenant had taken command of half the commando squads. The simple answer was that any higher authority was dead, and no one had thought to promote him yet.

Corporals Feran and Yellis were killed in the attempt to retake Geonosis. My team has now been reduced to three men, including myself. I suggest that a new recruitment program is started either from the remaining stormtroopers or any new recruits joining the army.

There was a beep as the speakers in his room turned on.

"Lieutenant," Pellaeon barks.

"Yessir?" Renn said, standing up sharply.

"The Grand Admiral wants to see you. Report to his chambers immediately."

The Grand Admiral stood rigid, his hands clasped behind his back, as he stared at the two soldiers before him. Both men stood at full attention and unmoving, a testament to their many years of Imperial service.

Thrawn's glowing red eyes seemed to bore into each of them as he studied them intently. Even with the lights of his command room on full, his eyes still held that eerie quality about them.

The artwork that populated the room could still be seen throughout. Strange orbs of what looked like swirling liquid, coupled with bizarre paintings whose canvas' seemed to move as if they were alive.

"At ease", Thrawn spoke in his usual cool, calm voice.

"Commander Bow of the 501st, Lieutenant Renn of the Imperial Storm Commandos", Thrawn spoke as he glowing eyes fell on each man with the mention of their name as he paced slowly before them.

"In less than one hour we will be exiting hyperspace in the Arbra system. The world once acted as a base of operations for the Rebellion during the height of the war. Upon arriving in the sector, we will begin bombardment of the fortress and send in ground forces to capture the spaceport."

"But, you will not be taking part in the attack", the Grand Admiral continued. He could not see their eyes beneath their helmets, but he could feel the mild confusion that each man felt at the order.

"In actuality, the Arbra assault is a smoke screen", stated the Grand Admiral as he moved to his command chair and pressed a key. Instantly the art surrounding the room vanished, and a holographic tactical display appeared before them.

"As you can see from the star chart, Arbra borders closely to the planetary system of Naboo. The former home world of the Emperor", Thrawn said as he pressed another button and the two neighboring systems appeared magnified on the holo.

"The Emperor's former associate, Sate Pestage, has taken refuge in a small village just outside the capital city of Threed. Intelligence reports he intends to defect to the Rebellion in exchange for the many secrets buried within his mind."

"That is something we cannot allow", Thrawn uttered with a hint of disgust as he turned to face the two Imperial soldiers before him.

"As we enter the Arbra sector, a shuttle will transport your strike team to Naboo. Your mission will be to extract Pestage and return to the Chimaera. I want him alive, so that we may extract the secrets the traitor holds to aid our campaign against the rebels."

"Remember, I want him alive", Thrawn said as his eyes narrowed to slits."But, at the same time, we cannot allow the traitor to fall into rebel hands. If the mission begins to go against us, you are ordered to kill Pestage immediately. Better him to die for the Empire than for his secrets to aid the Rebellion."
Thrawn keyed off the tactical screens and turned to stand before the soldiers. They still stood at perfect attention throughout the entire briefing.
The Grand Admiral's lips creased in a thin smile.
It was good to see Imperial discipline still existed.

"Are there any questions?"

__________________"Take the risk of thinking for yourself, much more happiness, truth, beauty, and wisdom will come to you that way."

"It will consist of the remaining soldiers under your command, as well as a strike team of the 501st hand-picked by Commander Bow", Thrawn replied cooly.

"Commander Bow", Thrawn continued as his piercing gaze turned to regard the veteran trooper, "will be leading the assault."

Journal of the 501st

"Yes sir." I reply immediately, my voice mangled and made even less human by the helmet.

Listening to Grand Admiral Thrawn's plan is quite something. He's one of the best strategic minds the Empire ever had, certainly the best one we have now. It seems strange the Emperor would hide Thrawn away instead of bringing him to the forefront. Then again, the Emperor's disdain for anything that wasn't human was not a secret. One wonders if things would be different, had Thrawn played a bigger role in the past.

"Obviously we can't take the risk of being spotted, so the smaller a team the better. Lieutenant Renn's team currently consists of three members, correct?" I ask, looking over to Renn. He nods sternly, visibly angered by his loss. "My strike team will consist of First Lieutenant Fox, Captain Rex as well as four of the 501st best. The combined forces of the 501st and Lieutenant Renn's team ought to be more than capable of carrying out the mission." I state with rock solid confidence. Thrawn nods, a slight smile on his lips. Raising my hand to my head, I salute the Grand Admiral. "You can count on us, Grand Admiral. I'll go alert my men." I say, before excusing myself.

Walking the corridors of the Chimera, an undeniably impressive ship, I tap the comm link in my helmet.

"Attention. This is Commander Bow. The following members of the 501st Legion will report to the hangar bay for duty immediately." I broadcast to the others. No doubt all of them hoping to be picked. Sitting on board of a Star Destroyer twiddling your thumbs wreaks havoc on a clone bred for war. "Captain Rex. First Lt. Fox. Dropkick. Shadow. Ripper, and Hound."

A brief silence overtakes the comm channel, before the affirmations start rolling in.

"Yes sir."

"You got it, boss."

Fox and Rex reply, followed shortly by four audibly excited soldiers. At the Battle of Geonosis, back during the Clone Wars, we hit trouble on account of the fact that over the communications channels, we all sounded the same. No one if it was the Commanding Officer speaking or just some grunt. Immediately following the battle, our helmets were installed with indicators that display where the incoming message is coming from.

I finally find myself in the hangar bay surrounded by flying machines that deal in death. Each one is more beautiful than the next. Almost anyone can fly these things, but it takes a man who truly appreciates the dance they do to survive more than a few minutes in one. Letting my mind wander slightly, I wait for my squad.

"Yes sir." I reply immediately, my voice mangled and made even less human by the helmet.

Listening to Grand Admiral Thrawn's plan is quite something. He's one of the best strategic minds the Empire ever had, certainly the best one we have now. It seems strange the Emperor would hide Thrawn away instead of bringing him to the forefront. Then again, the Emperor's disdain for anything that wasn't human was not a secret. One wonders if things would be different, had Thrawn played a bigger role in the past.

"Obviously we can't take the risk of being spotted, so the smaller a team the better. Lieutenant Renn's team currently consists of three members, correct?" I ask, looking over to Renn. He nods sternly, visibly angered by his loss. "My strike team will consist of First Lieutenant Fox, Captain Rex as well as four of the 501st best. The combined forces of the 501st and Lieutenant Renn's team ought to be more than capable of carrying out the mission." I state with rock solid confidence. Thrawn nods, a slight smile on his lips. Raising my hand to my head, I salute the Grand Admiral. "You can count on us, Grand Admiral. I'll go alert my men." I say, before excusing myself.

Walking the corridors of the Chimera, an undeniably impressive ship, I tap the comm link in my helmet.

"Attention. This is Commander Bow. The following members of the 501st Legion will report to the hangar bay for duty immediately." I broadcast to the others. No doubt all of them hoping to be picked. Sitting on board of a Star Destroyer twiddling your thumbs wreaks havoc on a clone bred for war. "Captain Rex. First Lt. Fox. Dropkick. Shadow. Ripper, and Hound."

A brief silence overtakes the comm channel, before the affirmations start rolling in.

"Yes sir."

"You got it, boss."

Fox and Rex reply, followed shortly by four audibly excited soldiers. At the Battle of Geonosis, back during the Clone Wars, we hit trouble on account of the fact that over the communications channels, we all sounded the same. No one if it was the Commanding Officer speaking or just some grunt. Immediately following the battle, our helmets were installed with indicators that display where the incoming message is coming from.

I finally find myself in the hangar bay surrounded by flying machines that deal in death. Each one is more beautiful than the next. Almost anyone can fly these things, but it takes a man who truly appreciates the dance they do to survive more than a few minutes in one. Letting my mind wander slightly, I wait for my squad.

"You got it boss." I tried slightly to disguise the relief and excitement in my voice. Sitting alone in my chambers, cradling a long-range sniper rifle, i let my mind wander for a moment. It had been awhile since it had saw any decent combat, much like the soldier that carried it.

Raising to my feet I placed the helmet atop my head, I had let a small beard form on my face, when you're a clone, you take any chance at individuality you can get. Picking up my gear walk out the door, only to be greeted by another clone.
"Sir." He said, saluting. I returned the favour.
"Dropkick. Come on, you heard the Commander, we'll meet up with the rest of them in the hangar." I growled into my microphone as we set off at a march.

"Sir, maybe we finally get our hands on some rebel scum this time sir?"

"One can only hope Private."

The walk through the corridors was a silent one, I prefer it that way, some men like to talk themselves up for a fight, shout and curse, threaten the very air around them. Not me. I simply know what has to be done and focus solely on making that goal a reality. It's what we were all brought up on, focus.

We turned the corner and entered the large, busy hangar, the ships docked there nothing but heaps of metal, tools to be used in a fight, some people said each and everyone had a soul of there own, I laugh at those people, nothing but souless machines. Mind you... some could say the same about us.

"If you'll excuse me sir, I need to prepare the squad," Renn said with a salute.

Bastion walked down the corridor of the Chimera, fastening the catches on his helmet. He turned on the commlink.

"Harneck, Patelli, suit up and meet me down in the hangar bay," he barked. Instead of using the armoury, Renn kept his weapons in his own personal quarters. DC-15 blaster rifle, more accurate and deadly that the E-11 that most troopers used. A string of thermal detonators, which he wrapped around his shoulder. He walked back out into the corridor and saw his subordinate, Sergeant Harneck walking towards him.

"Sir," he said, snapping to attention.

"At ease," he said quietly.

"What's the mission sir?" Harneck asked.

"Recovery, Harneck," he said shortly, walking towards the hangar bay. A few members of the 501st team were already there, as was Sergeant Patelli who was holding his prefered blaster cannon. Bastion approached Commander Bow and saluted.

"Recovery, Harneck," he said shortly, walking towards the hangar bay. A few members of the 501st team were already there, as was Sergeant Patelli who was holding his prefered blaster cannon. Bastion approached Commander Bow and saluted.

"Storm commandos present and correct sir," he said smartly.

Journal of the 501st

"It's an honor, Lieutenant. I've heard many great things about your squad." I say mid-salute. I drop the pleasentries, my voice grim and filled with a special sort of hate reserved for us Imperials. "Damn shame what those Rebel Bastards did on Geonosis. You have the sympathy and support of the entire 501st, Lieutenant Renn."

No sooner have the words left the speakers in my helmet than Captain Rex and the other three clones arrive, all carrying their weapons. "Captain." I nod.

"Commander." Rex replies, returning the gesture.

"Alright, 501st, listen up. This is Lieutenant Renn and his squad. We'll be working with them on a recovery mission to Naboo." I motion to Renn and his men, and I can see two of the clones tilt their heads slightly as I refer to them as a 'squad'. "Shadow. Ripper." I bark at them.

"Sir?"

"Is there a problem?"

"No, Commander Bow."

"Good. Now, this mission comes directly from the Grand Admiral. Lieutenant, mind filling our men in on the situation?" I say, turning to Renn.

Thrawn returned the salutes and the soldiers turned and departed from his command room.
Moving to the floating chair in the room's center, Thrawn gently sat down, pressing a key as he did.

A star map holo appeared in front of him, out-lining the Arbra sector. This attack was more than just a decoy strike. The planet had been a primary base to the Rebellion for years, and still acted as a headquarters of sorts.

More importantly though, was the fact that the planet was ripe with natural resources, including the sentient lagomorphs called the Hoojibs. Creatures that had the power to drain energy from electronic equipment, from droids to even space crafts.

An ability that could come in handy once they found the Emperor's secret storehouse, and all the technology that rested within.
Including the slave collars.

"Captain Pellaeon", chimed the Grand Admiral through the comm system.

"Yes, sir."

"Take us out of hyperspace just outside the sector. Once the shuttle containing the strike team is away, you will enter these coordinates into the nav computer and make a calculated jump to lightspeed."

The line was silent for what seemed like hours after Thrawn transfered the coordinates to the bridge.

"...Sir? A jump that close in the system could tear this ship apart."

"Do not fret, Captain", Thrawn chuckled briefly, "I don't wish to die today any more than you do."

"Once the jump is made, begin bombardment of the mountain base", the Grand Admiral spoke once more in his cold, clinical voice."Is that understood?"

"Yes, Admiral."

"Excellent."

"Don't worry, Captain", smiled Thrawn, "today we strike our first blow in the war to restore order to the galaxy."

__________________"Take the risk of thinking for yourself, much more happiness, truth, beauty, and wisdom will come to you that way."

"In a few hours there will be an assault on the Arbra system. This will be a distraction for the true mission. Sate Pestage, special advisor to the Emperor, has defected to the Rebellion. He's holed up in a village outside Theed, on the planet Naboo. Our job is to extract the traitor, alive if possible. However, if the mission goes wrong, we are to kill him rather than let the rebel scum get him," Bastion said, looking at each of the clone troopers in turn.

Father’s house was huge. Brilliant pieces of art decorated every room and corridor. The lavish palace was nothing like the grim fortress on Tatooine that many had mistakenly thought to be His true home. Although it, like many of Father’s possessions, was now mine, I seldom spent time in it. Perhaps, in the future, when I’m through with this ordeal and have cleared the Desilijic name, I will retire to this estate. It would give me something to look forward to.

I waited anxiously in the clan meeting chambers for the family to arrive. The room was quite commodious, as it was made to accommodate several Hutts. Enormous tapestry cloths bearing the clan symbol hung from its walls. There were many questions racing through my mind. How would they react? Was Ephant right? Would they resort to violence?

Thoughts of Ephant reminded me of operations on Tatooine. Ephant was cutting deals with smaller, local crimebosses. A Trandoshan called Vorsk was recruiting and training new guards. A human called Rendar was dealing with local swoop gangs who had been plundering from my funds. I couldn’t help but feel a bit hypocritical, having my men engage in these undertakings while holding a meeting to bring such activities to a halt. But according to Ephant, these were necessary. He said my power had to be exerted if I’m ever to be taken seriously.

The massive doors slid open. In drifted three hoversleds, one carrying Great Uncle Pazda, the current clan elder. The next two carried the blue-eyed cousin Gorga and his younger brother Grubba. Each of them was accompanied by an entourage of aides, bodyguards, and slaves. Within the hour, more of the family arrived. The next two to appear were cousins Kumac and Jelasi, then came cousins Jocoro of Du Hatta and Gorr of Naboo. With the bulk of the clan present, the rest either incarcerated, unable to attend, or dead, it was time for the meeting to commence.

“Fellow Desilijic, I come to you with great plans for our mighty clan.”

Dozens of bulbous eyes glared at me intently. I took a deep breath and began:

“The times are changing. And with these changes, I believe it is time we changed our trade. This New Republic will be harsher on crime, I can tell. Slavery has been outlawed. This has put many of you at a loss. Isn’t that right, Jocoro?”

The Hutt grumbled and nodded. I knew Jocoro well. Impulsive, abrasive, and ruthless, but still had some sense of honor that much of the family lacked. For reasons that remain a mystery, Jocoro was quite fond of me. He had a hand in protecting me after Father’s death. Why he did this, I’m not sure. It’s possible he knew I would be next to lead and merely wanted to get in my good graces but that didn’t seem likely. If he really wanted power, he could have easily killed me and took it himself.

“Operations in the Core are almost completely obliterated. Operations in the Mid-Rim are starting to fade. It seems unwise to continue certain practices if they will only be shut down in a matter of time.”

I heard a few murmurs. They seemed to be in agreement. At least, that’s what I told myself.

“I believe it is time we began to legitimize our businesses. Abandon some of the less-than-legal operations on focus on the others—gambling. Mining. These trades are just as, if not more lucrative. And legal.”

Upon completing the biddings of Rotta the Hutt, Dash made his way up the loading ramp of the Outrider, reaching the top and examining the Flare-S Swoop he had just acquired. I guess this could be a bonus ; still wrecked all to hell though. The vehicle was top of the line, no doubt.Though it still needed work after being slammed by a space freighter.

"Leebo, let's start some maintenence on this baby. I still have to get what I really came here for.", he said with a scratch of his chin. He knew Rotta was having a meeting with the Clan, which somewhat gave him a bit of worry. If the Hutt was killed, then his chance for any compensation for his duty would be blown out of the water. Once the Swoop was ready, he would make his way to the palace and wait. There would be entertainment, drinks, and some of the worst scum of the planet. Which was why he wouldn't be flying the Outrider.

"Sir. The Flare-S should be ready in no time. Perhaps you should get some rest while you await it's reconstruction?"

"I'll be damned if I fall asleep in the outskirts of Tatooine, Leebo. I'll be keeping a look out.", he replied, gazing out into the desert. Raiders, drifters, thieves...anything could be out here. It was, however, the most notorious planet for crime syndicates. Too bad he got involved this time. But money was money to him. He could only ponder what his life would be like had he dedicated his life to the Alliance. But he was dead to them now, a walking corpse. It was better to lay low for now. Who knows....he could cross path's with an old friend one of these days. Or an enemy. Rumor has it that Boba Fett escaped the pit of Sarlaac, someone he'd dealt with before to try and save Han. But it was too late, and damn did that bounty hunter put up a fight.